A Series of Unfortunate Challenges
by MinnesotaNice
Summary: My attempt at the 100 Fanfic Challenge. All entries will feature Minerva McGonagall in various places, situations and pairings. Rating may be subject to change. Prompt Six--Regret is now up!
1. Chapter 1: Dream

Disclaimer: Unfortunately not mine. I'm only having a little fun with them. Most of the characters you will recognize, some you may not. Those you don't are ones I've created.

A/N: So this is my attempt at the 100 fanfic challenge. All these will involve Minerva McGonagall in some shape or form and with various pairings. Some will be humorous, others sad, romantic and dramatic, but hopefully all will be to your liking. Also, not all of them will be this short. This one is because it is based on a true event that happened to me in the last 48 hours. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading. This one is also ADMM.

Prompt One—Dream: Gobsmacked

She was strolling languidly, barefoot, along the path. Her leather sandals dangled carelessly in one hand as she walked. The lush green of the shrubbery around her was pungent and she smiled. Birds were chirping and singing happily without a care in the world. She stopped for a short moment to take it all in, digging her toes into the moist earth, feeling its coolness gather between them.

A twig snapped and she looked up. A doe and her fawn were crossing the path in front her of her. The fawn was young; the trademark white spots still freckled all over its small frame. The doe looked up at Minerva, her eyes wide with fright. She stood still, trying to gauge whether Minerva would remain stationary as well.

Minerva heard another twig snap and she started. The doe and her fawn took off in one direction, while Minerva whipped her head around in every other direction. She could see no one, hear nothing except the gay song of the birds overhead. She heard another twig snap and a form stumbled out of the trees onto the path.

"I've found you at last," the deep voice of the unidentifiable person said to Minerva as he came closer. He reached out a hand and grabbed onto her arm. "Come with me."

Minerva began trashing instantly trying to free her arm from his strong grasp, but he was stronger than her. She was struggling; couldn't get away. The hand was wrapped tightly around her wrist causing the delicate skin to bruise instantly. The hand pulled her closer. Minerva could feel the scream rising her throat, but no sound came forth.

The hand was wrapped tightly around her wrist, refusing to give up the vice like grip. Then his arms slipped around her body pulling her closer. She felt as though she were being swallowed whole. Everything was closing in on her. The arms around her were squeezing tighter. Minerva pulled away long enough to turn around and face her assailant. She cursed herself for not having her wand with her. She did the only thing she could think of to stun him long enough so that she might get a running head start.

Minerva gathered all the saliva in her mouth at spit with all her might. The gob landed straight in the man's eye and he let go of her wrist in surprise. She took the opportunity and ran as fast as her legs would carry her….

* * *

"Minerva!" came a surprised voice, pulling her from her fitful slumber.

Minerva groggily opened her eyes to see the man beside her holding one hand to his left eye in the dim light.

"What was that for?" he exclaimed. She saw her husband wipe at his eye with his handkerchief.

"Albus, what was _what_ for?" she said sleepily.

"_You_! You just spit in my eye!"

Minerva clapped a hand to her mouth, remembering. Albus must have tightened his arm around her in his sleep. She looked at the man beside her, a pitiful sight attempting to clear away the saliva in his eye. She burst into a fit of laughter.

"I don't find this at all funny! It's three o' clock in the morning and I'm wiping _spit_ from my eye. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't mind 'swapping' spit with you, but not when you don't even have the decency to let me know when you're going to do it."

Minerva was still laughing as she tried to speak. She couldn't believe she had done that.

"Oh, Albus, I'm sorry. It was just a dream."


	2. Chapter 2: Love

A/N: This on also has a MMAD pairing. It has no connection to the others that will soon join it. It was an idea I had for a different story, which may one day be expanded, providing I find the time. I hope you enjoy!

Prompt Two—Love:

Love is a strange and funny feeling I've come to realize over the course of my life. It has a strange way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it. Throughout my life, I've never really had the chance to fully experience all that love can encompass. That is until I met and married my husband nearly fifty years ago.

You see, I was raised along with my twin sister by a strict widowed grandmother. Both of our parents died young: Mama in childbirth with my sister and me, and Papa, a Summoning spell gone awry. At least, that is what Grandmary told Thora and me. We've learned since then that Papa was involved in a secret organization that fought against the dark side. Apparently he had been a high ranking member which was why he was singled out.

Grandmary didn't much care for Papa. She never failed to mention this to Thora and me as we were growing up. She always thought her Ellen was foolish to ever marry a man as forward thinking as Josiah McGonagall. Grandmary always told us she was thankful that her only granddaughters inherited most of their traits from the Kavanaghs.

As soon as we came to live with Grandmary, Thora and I quickly learned we were not to run amok through the old manor, bother the house elves or to speak out of turn. We were to do our studies for a certain amount of time every day, followed by a quiet hour after noon dinner, sewing after that, and then our piano or singing lesson. Thora and I didn't care for any of this much, but we acquiesced to Grandmary for fear of her. I particularly detested sewing. I had neither the patience nor the will to make my seams perfect. I was hopeless at it. My stitches were far from being as even as Thora's and for this, I was made to sit an extra thirty minutes or however long until they were.

I have no doubt that Grandmary loved us in her own unique way. I am just not sure if she knew how to or if she was afraid. I don't much of how Mama was raised; we never had the chance of knowing her or even of asking Papa about her. Thora and I were only about four when he died. We never dared ask Grandmary. It was still a sore spot for her that her only child should die long before her time. Sometimes, when Thora and I would sit down to breakfast, I noticed a distant flicker or spark in Grandmary's clear blue eyes. However, she would soon straighten up and I realized she believed that Thora or me were her daughter for a small spell. For one foolish moment, I used to think that Grandmary appreciated Thora and me for who we were, rather than for who she thought we should measure up to. Despite this, I knew she loved us. If she hadn't, where else could two orphaned girls have gone with no other living family?

The only love I experienced as a child was that of a strict love I came to resent as I grew older. I was everything Grandmary didn't want me to be. Because of this, she favored Thora over me. Thora was much more soft-spoken than I, reminding Grandmary of her deceased daughter. I reminded her too much of our father who acted rashly and spontaneously. This became a harsh breeding ground of mutual resentment between Grandmary than me. I felt I could never measure up to her expectations or ever truly be myself in her presence. Only with Thora could I let my true colors shine through.

Thora loved and accepted me unconditionally as I was. She often told me was envious of me. I was almost speechless. I couldn't imagine my quiet, dear, kind and caring sister wanting to be like me: brash and outspoken. She didn't seem to fit the description at all. In spite any difference we had with each other, Thora and me clung to each other as we were growing up in Grandmary's strict household.

However strong my bond with Thora was, there were still some secrets I never told her, things I wanted to be my own, just as I'm sure she had hers. I never know the full truth and depth of love until I was well into adulthood. Thora married a Muggleborn wizard soon after we'd finished at the local wizarding university. He was a few years ahead of us at Hogwarts, but had been immediately taken with Thora. I'd had a few beaus before, but none that I absolutely felt I'd never be able to live without. I cared for them deeply and loved them yes, but I realized it was more a platonic love than it would ever be romantic. No, I never felt this way until the day I met the man I would one day marry.

I can still remember the exact moment we met. It was April 1945. I can't recall the exact date, but I know it was April, because it was around this time that the Muggle war was beginning to come to an end as well. I had been stationed as a Healer's assistant in a field hospital in southern Germany during this time. I would have been in the front combat lines were it not for the fact that I was a woman. At that time I would have loved nothing more than to be an American woman gone to work in the steel industries, doing my part in defending my country and my people. I felt nearly useless, in the hospital, but I knew I was not. I had a fair amount of medical training under my belt from when I was studying to be an Auror. I tended to wounded Aurors and wizard civilians. Most days, it took all of my strength to keep going. Day after day, so many people came and went from the hospital in shambles—limbs missing, long deep gashes causing severe blood loss. It was almost too much, but I had to do my part in the war effort and there was no other way for me to do it.

I had been stationed at this particular hospital for nearly four months when we'd received the most joyous news we could ever have hoped for. Gellert Grindelwald had finally fallen! And at the hands of one Albus Dumbledore. The final battle had waged on for nearly ten hours before Dumbledore was able to corner and catch the dark wizard off guard. At the fall of their leader, many of Grindelwald's followers endeavored to flee in the midst of all the premature victory commotion. Most failed in their attempts, but a small number managed to succeed.

Soon after we'd learned of the victory, large numbers of people both wounded and non-wounded alike streamed into the hospital in droves. I almost could not bear to look at some the people brought in. The faces and bodies of some the people were so distorted they were almost unrecognizable as humans. These souls would be forever branded in my memory physically, mentally, and emotionally. I could not begin to imagine their roads to recovery. I fell into such a trance and stood rooted on the spot as the stretchers were carried past, my motor and cognitive abilities ceased to function for a short while.

For one brief, selfish moment, I wanted and wished for nothing more than to be back home—safe within the austere walls of Grandmary's manor. I wanted Thora. I hadn't any contact with her in almost a year since I'd been transferred to Germany. I wondered if she was safe. I wanted to hold her and touch her as I often did when we were children. I wanted to crawl into her arms and feel her hand stroke my back soothingly, hear her comforting voice telling me that everything was going to be all right.

The putrid scent of burning and rotting flesh assaulted my nostrils so abruptly that I was catapulted out of my stupor and realized, faintly, that my name was being shouted.

"McGonagall! Follow Healer Carlisle and help him with that patient!" someone shouted to me above all the turmoil.

Since I was already predisposed, I mechanically followed behind the team carrying the body in front of me. They led me into an isolated corner of the tent and gingerly placed the body on the flimsy cot. The man lying on the cot didn't appear to have life-threatening injuries as the Healers examined him, at least nothing more serious than extreme exhaustion and a several cuts and minor gashes that grazed his entire body. I couldn't see his face at first. His robes were torn and shredded in some places with blood splattered in others. His graying auburn hair was all matted with sweat and blood. His face was covered in splats of blood from shards of glass embedded in the skin, and his eyes were nearly swollen shut.

Underneath it all, though, the realization hit me that this man lying nearly comatose in front of me was Albus Dumbledore. An involuntary gasp escaped my mouth so suddenly that Healer Carlisle looked up at me inquisitively.

"Anything wrong, Miss McGonagall?" he said with his eyebrows raised.

"N-no, sir," I stammered uncharacteristically.

He looked away and continued checking Dumbledore's pulse rate and other vitals while I continued staring in amazement. I had never met Dumbledore before. He had begun teaching at Hogwarts shortly after Thora and I graduated. I did recognize him from photographs I'd seen in the _Daily Prophet_and from books I'd read containing excerpts from his studies and analyses of the twelve uses of dragon bloods. Healer Carlisle soon finished his examination of Dumbledore and instructed me to cleanse and dress his wounds as gently as I could.

As I cleansed his wounds, Dumbledore came to, albeit slowly and very groggily. He moaned unintelligibly. His breath was raspy as he asked for water to hydrate his parched lips. I held the glass to his mouth as he clumsily slurped the refreshing liquid.

"Thank you," he said breathlessly.

He managed to open one puffy eye. That one deep blue eye locked with my own and I knew then that I had fallen in love with this man who been the victor of our world. His one eye looked at me so gratefully, and I knew I was lost. I never seen this man lying exhausted before me in my life and yet I was seized most unexpectedly with a love for him so compassionate and unconditional I could hardly breathe.

He didn't even know my name.


	3. Chapter 3: Shore

A/N: This is a fluffy little missing scene of sorts from a longer fic I have in progress, which is tentatively titled "Music of the Heart." As to when that will be posted, I don't yet know. There is a lot to be done with it yet. However, this prompt collection will feature many little scenes from it. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to those who are taking the time to read. Please let me know what you think, or don't care about. I like all feedback!

Prompt Three—Shore

The smooth stones were soft under her bare feet. The water swirling around her ankles was refreshing, sending shivers of goose pimples up her legs in the warm afternoon sun. She held her robes secure, hovering just above her knees. The sun reflecting off the water was intense and bright against her eyes.

A high-pitched squeal of excitement drew Minerva's attention away from her feet in the water. She looked up in time to see her younger daughter flying through the air and landing in the water with a splash. Her older daughter was soon to follow. Her husband looked up at her mischievously. He was standing waist high in the water about twenty feet off the shore from where she was. Their younger daughter came up sputtering and laughing, begging to be thrown again.

"I think that it's Mum's turn, don't you?" her husband said. He turned to their other daughter on his left. "What do you think, Orla?"

The older girl grinned widely, but didn't say anything. Then she nodded. The three of them began moving toward shore. Minerva watched as her husband and daughters moved stealthily closer to her. She hitched her robes higher and began making a mad dash for their picnic blanket.

"Oh no you don't!" she shrieked as she ran, the three of them hot on her heels. Minerva had just made it to the blanket when she felt her husband's strong arms wrap around her middle. The water from his body seeped through the thin material of her robes almost immediately. "Jack!"

Their daughters screeched in excitement. "Get her, Papa!"

"Nuala!" Minerva cried helplessly as her husband ran, carrying her back to the water. "Jack, put me down! I don't have a bathing costume."

"Nonsense, Minerva. You're not a Transfiguration mistress for nothing," he replied.

Orla and Nuala trailed behind their parents, eager to see their prim mother dunked into the water by their father. Their father walked back into the water, holding tight to their mother who was squirming fitfully. He waded farther out from the shore, past his waist. Their mother was holding tight to his neck and they heard her let out a sharp breath as she first made contact with the water.

Minerva gasped as the cool water made contact with her behind. Her eyes widened and she screamed her husband's name just as he tossed her into the water in the same effortless fashion he had their daughters. Like Nuala, Minerva came up sputtering in surprise, her hair undone and plastered to her face. She wiped the hair from her face and there was an undeniably large smile spreading across her features. Jack waded closer to her and reached his arms around her, kissing his wife. He held her face between his hands tenderly, looking deep into her eyes before kissing her again.

Their daughters were laughing and began splashing out toward their parents. Jack and Minerva separated briefly to watch their daughters running out to them. Nuala tripped first as she and Orla ran out to them, Orla following soon after. The two young girls were as gangly as could be. The two parents laughed, their hearts swelling with pride.

"I can't believe you just did that!" Minerva said turning back to her husband. "You're going to pay for that later, I hope you know."

"Looking forward to it, Willow," he whispered so only she would hear. This earned him a playful swat and an unsuccessful attempt at dunking him.

The two young girls reached their parents who were splashing each other mercilessly. The splashing was then directed toward the girls and Jack took turns throwing Orla and Nuala across the water. Minerva pretended not to notice that her summer robes had also been surreptitiously transfigured into a modest bathing suit thanks to Jack's more than adequate skills, and she continued splashing her husband and children.

The summer sun shrank behind a patch of clouds soon after, causing gooseflesh to erupt on all four members of the family. Minerva shivered violently. Orla and Nuala's teeth were chattering together loudly and Jack ushered his family back to shore. The girls ran ahead, laughing as they raced each other back to their towels. Jack slid his arm around Minerva and she around him, resting her head on his shoulder.

He stopped as they reached the shoreline and looked down at her. The sun began to peek out from behind the clouds and glinted off her wet hair.

"What?" Minerva said slightly disconcerted.

"Nothing. I just don't think I've ever seen you look so beautiful as you do now." He gave her an affectionate squeeze as he kissed the tip of her nose.

"Now, you're just flattering me." Minerva quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I would never," said Jack trying to appear affronted. "Besides, I don't need to."

Minerva's mouth opened in an 'o' of surprise and she swatted him again. "Oh go on!"

He ducked out of her reach and she chased him back their picnic blanket. He plopped down unceremoniously next to their girls and plucked a summer strawberry from their basket. The four of them ate their picnic lunch companionably and soon the girls were off again, this time with a kite in hand. Minerva reclined against Jack, who was propped against the tree they were sitting under. His arm snaked around her waist she rested hers atop his. They sat in relative silence, enjoying the warm breeze and their children's laughter surrounding them.

"Has it been a good day?" Jack asked her quietly. He was running his hand along her arm gently.

Minerva had been dozing against her husband. "Mmm. Dunking and all."

He laughed heartily and kissed her temple. They resumed watching their daughters. Their hippogriff kite was flying high and glinting in the afternoon summer sun.

"Jack?" Minerva whispered after a while.

"Hmm," came his reply.

"We're going to have a baby."


	4. Chapter 4: Strangers

A/N: This one is fairly random as far anything so far. It has no affiliation to anything but the scattered thoughts running loose in my mind. I also realize the time period is a bit vague, but it's before Voldemort really began gaining power. And this is slightly romanticized, considering the subject, but I guess I'm an idealist at heart. Also, I apologize for the delay. I'm sure many of you were as frustrated as I was over the last couple of days with ffn. As always feedback is greatly appreciated and thank you for taking the time to read!

Prompt Four—Strangers

Minerva had been monitoring the movement of various Death Eaters for a little over a few months now. She and four other senior ranking Aurors had been chosen to be sent "into the field" as it were to track further and pinpoint the exact location of suspicious activities. Though she was no longer working for the Ministry as Auror, she volunteered when she was able, and as she been in the top while she was working, she was the most logical candidate. The five of them had worked individually up until this point. They had finally accumulated enough activity on record to be more proactive in their pursuit. Now, without having met before, they had to forge bonds of trust quickly if they were to be set up in a little camp which was to be their home for unknown amount of time.

It was late June and the evening air was heavy with moisture. The density of the air felt even worse as they huddled around their cooking fire. The air seemed to ooze into Minerva's lungs, making it difficult for her to breathe at times. She cursed the dampness of skin and how it caused her thin summer robe to cling to her in the most awkward places. Some of her teammates snickered at her teasingly. Being the only woman on the team, she gave them her best glare, which was somewhat effective in squelching most of the cat calls for the night.

They had set up their bivouac in a rather remote area of the forest in the Scottish Highlands miles from even the slightest glimpse of civilization, where dark activity seemed to be fairly constant. Their whereabouts were placed under the strongest Fidelius Charm they could place between the five of them. Despite the safety precautions, none of them felt the need to venture far except for when the left to scour the area each morning.

Though they had only set up their camp recently, Minerva was positive that the five of them would be able to work together efficiently and effectively. There were language barriers, of course. However, they didn't seem to be too much of a hindrance as of yet. Two of the Aurors were from Hungary, one from France, and the other from the United States.

Minerva had always relished the opportunity to work with international colleagues who shared the same passion and devotion in keeping their fragile world in existence. She hadn't been given the chance often, which was why she was even more grateful to have been chosen for this particular mission though she was technically no longer an Auror. She had an established career as the esteemed Transfiguration Mstress at Hogwarts now. While she loved teaching, she also liked the extracurricular activity of volunteering some of her spare time for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

When she had been working with the Ministry, her only chance to work internationally had been during the war against Grindelwald. She had trained endlessly for nearly four years to achieve her status as a full-fledged Auror. She had become a Junior Auror after barely a year of training, almost unheard of, and especially by a woman during that time. After four years she'd been assigned her first mission in height of both the great Muggle war and the war with Grindelwald.

Three days after being given her assignment, she went to Germany. She had only herself and the team she would meet there upon her arrival to fight for. Her family had been one of the first targeted during Grindelwald's rise. This fact alone had spurred on Minerva's dedication to her cause in seeing the dark wizard's downfall. She arrived in the war-torn country with nothing but a small bag of necessities on her back and her wand in her hand. She reported to her unit, met her team for the first time, and went out into the field undercover not more than three hours after she arrived.

Though Minerva knew no one on her team, they all worked well together. They formed a tight bond and sense of loyalty with each other quickly. They were able to trust each other implicitly. In the end, they came out relatively unscathed. A couple of their tactics had been thwarted resulting in a few mild injuries, but all worked together to ensure the safety and well being of every person on the team. By the time they had been dispatched, they'd almost become a close-knit functioning family of sorts, many of whom Minerva still kept in touch with.

In the first afternoon in the forest in the highlands of Scotland, despite the brazenness of the men around her, Minerva felt contented by the fact that their team would survive. They would work well together. There would be disagreements, no doubt, but they'd be able to work them out in an orderly fashion. Sitting around the fire at dusk with those men, she smiled to herself secretly. Though she barely knew these men, they would share an unconditional familial bond by the end, and perhaps even more. Who knew?

She even found herself glancing at the American wizard once or twice more than was needed.


	5. Chapter 5: Time

A/N: Another missing scene from the tentatively titled 'Music' realm, which BTW is flowing unbelieveably well at the moment. I think I may be far along with it now, that I'm going to put an ad out for a beta if anyone is interested. Please let me know what you think! Every bit of feedback provides confidence and suggestions as to how I can make something more appealing to read. Enjoy!

Prompt Five--Time

"Minerva, are you all right?" The concerned Healer of Hogwarts laid a gentle hand on her friend's arm

Time. It kept going and going and yet, it had also ceased. Minerva stood frozen on the spot. She couldn't believe what she had just been told. He couldn't be dead. Her best friend, her mentor… dead. It wasn't possible. Albus Dumbledore was supposed to transcend across the seas of time. Her heart felt as though it were being pierced through with a thousand knives.

She couldn't believe he had fooled them all. They had all trusted in him implicitly, only to have that trust ripped wide open, betrayed and left hanging helplessly. Minerva had trusted in Severus Snape along with everyone else of the Order. She had taken him under her wing when he joined the staff off Hogwarts, offering advice and helpful tactics on getting used to the transition of teaching. She had been wary at first, given his previous allegiance, but Albus had convinced her otherwise. His belief in Severus was enough for her to accept it as well. She been his friend despite their notorious rivalry, or at least she thought she had been.

Apparently not. Apparently, all she had shared him during their tenure together meant nothing to him.

Over time, Minerva had grown to love Severus as a son, first through his difficult years as a student at Hogwarts, after he had rejoined them as the Potions Master, and even more so when he took to courting her daughter. So many years had passed between now and then, transforming him into a hardened man. Despite his austerity, Madeleine was somehow able to draw something out of him. How she did so remained a mystery to Minerva.

Minerva felt numb. She was still standing in the Hospital wing.

"Minerva?" Poppy Pomfrey touched her arm again.

Minerva started at the contact. She looked at her friend, whom she had experienced so much with over the time they had known each other, so many milestones. Graduations, promotions, weddings, births, deaths, hardships. Minerva felt her eyes well up and her vision blurred.

Poppy caught the other woman in a fierce hug, stroking her back soothingly. Minerva felt so fragile in her arms. She had obviously lost a considerable amount of weight over the school year. Minerva let her tears overtake her completely. She leant against Poppy, seeking the support she so desperately needed. Her body shook violently with her sobs and she hiccoughed. Poppy conjured a handkerchief and handed it to Minerva wordlessly.

"Thank you, Poppy," she said weakly. She wiped her tears away and then blew her nose.

"You're welcome," replied the nurse. "Come on, let's sit down for a moment."

Minerva was already beginning to pull away. "No, I have to inform the school, the Order, too much to do…"

"Minerva," Poppy warned. "You need to take time for yourself, just for a minute to process it all."

"Haven't I just done that, Poppy?"

The nurse didn't reply.

Minerva wrung her hands and laughed bitterly. "What I fool I was, Poppy! We all were to believe him as we did. All the time he invested in Hogwarts and us in him. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater it would seem."

"You can't blame yourself, or anyone else, Minerva. Severus made his choice."

"I know that." She began pacing the infirmary. "I just don't understand. I loved him like son. A _son_, Poppy! And now, I—"

"Stop it, Minerva!" said Poppy grabbing the other woman again. "Don't blame yourself."

"Yes, but if I hadn't told Hermione to fetch him…"

Poppy eyed Minerva pointedly. "Do you really think that would have stopped him even if you hadn't told Miss Granger to get him? You know it wouldn't have mattered, Minerva McGonagall."

Minerva conceded her point. "But why the sudden change, Poppy? Why wait sixteen years to make your move. It doesn't make any sense! To butter up everyone I suppose."

Poppy looked at her friend. "I don't know, Minerva, and neither can you. We never will."

Minerva suddenly gasped. "My family, Poppy! Your family! How much we've shared with him. How are we to protect them? Oh Madeleine! Madeleine! My baby, Poppy. What is she going to think? What is she going to do? How is she going to cope? She and Severus, they—"

Poppy grabbed Minerva arms to hold her on the spot. "Minerva, will you listen to yourself? You're becoming hysterical. Calm down! We'll get through this. I'm going to fire call Jack for you, all right? Just sit down."

Minerva acquiesced and stared at the floor dumbly. She wrung her hands in and out. Oh, Albus. How could he be dead? Harry! Poor Harry to have to witness such a thing. Minerva's mind was reeling in a thousand different directions. Albus had been so secretive with her this past year. She wished he hadn't been. It normally wasn't like him to keep things from her.

She had so much to do now, so much to worry about. How was she going to be able keep everything under control? What was Jack going to say when he found out? What would he do? And Madeleine, her youngest child. She and Severus had been a serious item for nearly ten years and they were planning to be married this summer…finally.

"Willow?" she heard her husband whisper in her ear as his arms wrapped around her.

She turned to see him. "Jack! Oh, Jack…Severus, he…"

"Shhh," he said comfortingly as he rocked her in his arms. The tears came again, flowing unceasingly. Her husband rubbed her back in soothing circles as his tears mingled with her own. The two held each other for a long while until their tears began to subside.

"Jack, what are we going to tell Madeleine? She's going to be devastated."

"I know, Minerva, I know. It will take a while, but we'll figure something out. We always do."

In that moment, Minerva had never been more grateful for her husband's support. He had always been the more collected one of the two of them. He almost always held his temper and his anger at bay. Even now, he still held her and kissed her temple lovingly. He took the handkercheif from her hand and wiped the fresh tears from her face gently. His thumb traced along her prominent cheek bone and they looked into each other's eyes. He held her face tenderly and he leaned down to kiss her lips tenderly.

Minerva couldn't believe that she had married to this man for fifty years come two months time. A little more than two thirds of her life had been spent with this man she called her husband, this man whom she loved deeply and completely. She looked up at him

"I love you, Jack," she whispered, meaning every word.


	6. Chapter 6: Regret

Prompt Six—Regret

I had always thought it to be commonplace for someone to say they had had their heart broken: once, twice, thrice, a hundred times. To me, they were only exaggerating the pain of loss they were feeling, and as a result of that, I never believed in it or that it could happen to me. This belief was especially true when the thought of unrequited love came about. Even the notion of it seemed absurd; only something you would read in a novel, not something that occurred in everyday life.

How wrong I had been; how foolish not to think it could ever happen to me. The pain I am feeling now quite unexpectedly gripped my heart in a cold vice, freezing it, and then shattering it into thousands of shards. With a sudden, blinding epiphany I now feel what is meant by a "broken heart." I am cursed to understand the full impression of it. How did I let her slip away through my fingers, across the blur of a lifetime we spent so close together? I can't bear to think I have lost her. I'm not ready to; I don't _want _to. I want to believe that she would someday come to the realization of how I deeply I feel for her, that I love her as I had never loved anyone. I hope against all hope that she might return those feelings unconditionally, but I know deep in my heart it will never be something she can do.

Of course, she has no concept of just how exquisite she is. I am standing against the walls of the Great Hall in the shadow so she cannot see me, see the pain I am feeling. They are dancing together, perfectly content in each other's arms, their movements seamless. They have danced a thousand dances together, and yet they will always remember this one, for this is their first dance as man and wife.

Her hips flare seductively in the same manner as she sways to the music with her partner, keeping time with the beat. Her hair, black as the blackest onyx, gleam immaculately and her eyes, blue as sapphires, sparkle with unbridled joy and happiness. I watch them hold each other close: cheek to cheek, hip to hip, breast to breast, and I wish I was the one holding her.

She returned to Hogwarts as the Transfiguration Mistress in December of 1956. A day, month, and year that will always be seared into my memory. The sharp features of her face were severe, yet unlike any kind of beauty I had ever imagined. Even Botticelli's _Venus_ couldn't hold a candle to her. She was tall, exuding grace and confidence in her stature as she sat down at the High Table for the first time among the staff.

She had chosen to sit next to me. I found the subtle fragrance of her perfume intoxicating. She touched my arm lightly as she reintroduced herself more personally. She looked into my eyes and I was lost. This too, may seem exaggerated, but I assure it is not. They say that it was happens when you fall in love. As I aforementioned, I did not believe in any of that nonsense. However, on that day, I fell completely, hopelessly, and unequivocally in love with Minerva McGonagall.

I hardly knew her, and yet I was in love with her. And I continue to love her as she dances with her new husband. Every happy smile that crosses her features twists the double-edged knife of regret in my heart. My love for her is a secret one, and one which I shall take with me to the grave.

At first, I had been ashamed of my feelings toward Minerva. We were colleagues. It did not do to mix business and pleasure. But the more time I spent thinking about her, the more I came to accept those feelings. I had never experienced quite the surge of emotion as I did during that first meeting of ours and I knew my feelings toward her would never waver. I was wholly hers, even if she didn't know it.

We grew to be close friends over the years we worked together. We even took a few friendly holiday trips together. We turned to each other in hardship, comforting and confiding in each other. I was not entirely honest with Minerva though. I could never be, lest I lose her friendship which I cherish so. If she ever knew the depth of my true feelings she would be more repulsed than words could describe. If she ever knew, she would surely never speak to me again, much less want to be near me. It would hurt her too much, and I could not bear the thought of causing her any pain, physical, emotional or otherwise.

During the summer holidays, Minerva remained at the castle. It was her home, she always insisted. I smiled every time she said this, knowing it meant she would always be near to me when I needed her, to see her face, to talk to her. We spent many an afternoon or evening together, taking walks, sharing meals, games of chess or Exploding Snap, and even the occasional dip in the great lake. Minerva remained true to her Animagus form in her open disdain for anything aqueous unless she was drinking it or bathing in it.

I remember one particular, uncharacteristically stifling afternoon in the middle of August of 1972, and it was Minerva of all people who suggested a swim in the lake after our walk. The heat was getting to her, she said. She didn't think she could stand another minute of it.

We reached the lake and she transfigured our light summer robes into suitable swimming costumes. I braved the water almost immediately, the cool water a welcome relief on that hot afternoon. The sun was shining high above us, glinting off the surface of the water. I ducked under the water completely and when I came up, I had never seen anything so beautiful as I did that day.

There was Minerva, her long legs exposed, her hair plaited down her back, sticking the toes of her right foot into the water delicately, apprehensively. She had a hand lifted to shield her eyes from the blinding sunlight. Next to the water, her skin was so beautifully pale, that it appeared blue.

I called for her to come in, the water was glorious! And she did.

As much as Minerva hated water, it was hard to ascertain the thought as she moved through it. The way she moved, it was as though it were second nature to her. Her strokes were so precise, I wondered if there was anything she didn't strive to perfect. Her hair had come undone as fell down her back in a sheet of black silk. It was all I could do to restrain myself from reaching out to touch it.

We hadn't been in the water long before our teeth began to chatter. The water had definitely been a refreshing and quick way to cool down, but it was difficult to handle for long periods of time. We made our way back to shore. Minerva was ahead of me, anxious to dry off. I couldn't help but stare longingly. Her long hair swinging behind her, tiny beads of water clinging to her skin seductively. I wanted to feel the softness of her skin against mine.

That is one of the happiest memories I have of Minerva. That was our time, our special time together that she has no idea of knowing how much it still means to me. All I have now are the memories we've shared.

I take a deep breath and a long sip from the glass of Firewhisky in my hands. I am normally not one for such stiff forms of alcohol, but tonight I don't care. I relished the strong burning sensation in my esophagus as I swallowed the warm liquid. I could feel its warmth enveloping my insides. I might have to start drinking it more often.

I can hear Minerva laughing nearby. She is visiting with some new relative or other. I am not paying very close attention, except to the sound of her light, melodious laughter. There never has been a sweeter sound to reach my ears.

I swallowed from my glass again and I see that she has spotted me. She excused herself and began walking toward me, a content smile upon her face. I turned away briefly to surreptitiously wipe away the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes with the handkerchief that had been tucked into my sleeve. I turned back around just as she reached me.

"Poppy? Why aren't you out there dancing? You love to dance."

I mustered the best smile I could as I shrugged my shoulders. "Oh, well, I'm just not in the mood right now, I guess."

Minerva quirked an eyebrow at me in that infamous way she always does. She squeezed my arm in friendly gesture and I felt a stirring inside. "Promise me you'll be out there soon then. You should be enjoying yourself too."

She smiled and moved away to greet some other odd guest.

Enjoying myself as well? I would enjoy myself more if I could deluge myself in a bottle of Firewhisky. I watched her find her husband again, the lucky man. They would always remember this day that they were finally able to publicly declare their love for each other. The war against the Dark Lord was over at last.

I will remember this day, too, as the day I lost my one and only love to another.

* * *

A/N: First, I want to thank **stsgirlie** and **Kelly Chambliss** for being the first ones to review. I forgot to in the previous chapter! I am especially curious as to what you think of this one. This was my first attempt ever writing femslash, even if it is one-sided. I enjoy reading it now and then, but I have never felt I could do it adequate justice in writing. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!


End file.
